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I Can Not For The Life Of Me Fall Asleep Essay

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It is 2:30 in the morning and because of this damn journal, I cannot for the life of me fall asleep. I have a finished journal: printed, stapled and ready to hand in. But, I cannot get myself to turn in a subpar, make-shift piece of writing. So call me crazy, but I’m taking the time to re-write my reflection, full-heartedly and to the best of my abilities, so bear with me.
Fear, terror, dread; pretty accurate words to describe how I was feeling before I began this one hour of silence. Little did I know that actually writing my experience down would be the bane of my existence. There is a sense of vulnerability I disclose here, that is way beyond my comfort-zone. Before the experience I was already apprehensive as to where my mind would go. It can be a scary abyss in there and I had no interest in finding out where my attention would wonder. I knew it would be more intense than the previous endeavor of sixty minutes of listening in a public place. The difference between having noise and conversation there to distract the mind, and nothing but utter silence seemed daunting. Likewise, I unquestionably utilize noise, language and communication, fruitful of not, to fill the hole that silence offers.
In the Fiumara’s, The Other Side of Language, she quotes Sciacca, who suggests that, “silence has a weight . . . that we do not find in any words: it is heavy with everything that we have lived, are living now and everything that we shall experience” (Fiumara, 105). That right

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